


We Are Electricity

by myhomeistheshire



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, I'm so sorry, high school sweethearts, it's like I can never write anything happy anymore, modern day AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 02:56:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1841701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myhomeistheshire/pseuds/myhomeistheshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy and Clarke have been together since high school. She's not ready for this. How could she be ready for this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. conducting sparks

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this entirely on the fact that I watched a season of buffy in two days - the combination of buffy/angel and willow/oz meant that I was up all night crying and desperately needed to write some angst. The title lyrics (and the song I listened to on repeat while writing - don't judge) is 'You and Me' by Splendid. Enjoy, and as always, reviews are what I live and breathe for.

Bellamy and Clarke had never really been friends.

 

He’d gone to her school, two years her senior, so in a small town you’d inevitably end up talking at least a little. But her being friends with his sister, Octavia, meant that they would also acknowledge each other in the halls and exchange brief words whenever she was over at their house. He was cute, Clarke thought to herself once or twice, but she would never admit it because he was Octavia’s _brother_. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d ever even noticed her.

 

Until the school dance freshman year.

 

Clarke had never been much of a girly-girl, but Brian, a cute guy from her AP Math class had asked her, after a few months of almost-flirting, so in a fit of nerves she called Octavia and asked if she could have some help with fashion advice.

 

So here she was, sitting in Octavia’s bedroom going over her friend’s abundant wardrobe and getting more and more despairing with each one she tried on.

“None of these work, V.” She said after the seventh dress, crumpling to a heap on the floor. “Maybe the dance was a mistake. I mean, what if I mess it all up? What if Brian turns out to be a total jerk? We haven’t even _talked_ , really.”

“Nuh-uh.” Octavia said, narrowing her eyes. “This is not going to happen. You are going to have your one night of fun with a cute boy, okay? Hey -” This as Clarke was rolling her eyes - “just try one more, okay? I have the perfect one.” She disappeared almost entirely into the closet, and emerged a minute later, holding up her find in triumph. Clarke let out a little gasp.

“Oh, my god - it’s, beautiful, V. I couldn’t -”

“Try it on.” Octavia’s tone was strictly no-nonsense, so Clarke gave in and stepped into the bathroom to change. As she slipped into it, she could feel the light fabric brush against her skin, and to her astonishment it fit like a glove. She turned to face herself in the mirror skeptically. The pale pink fabric fell in waves over her curves, clinging in all the right places. She finally let a smile out. Maybe the dance wouldn’t be a complete disaster, after all.

“Come on, open up!” Octavia was banging on the door, and Clarke reached over to unlock it. As Octavia stepped in, her jaw dropped open. “Oh my god, Clarke! Was I right or was I right? You’re a knockout.” Clarke’s lips pulled upwards of their own volition.

“Okay, fine, so you were right.”

“‘Course I was.” Octavia said matter-of-factly. “Okay, you get your makeup finished while I go change into my dress, and then we’ll head out. Bell!” This last part was yelled down the carpeted stairs.

“What?” The irritated response floated back.

“We’ll be ready in five!”

Clarke could hear the snort from a floor away. “Whatever you say, O. I’ll be ready when you are.”

“Bellamy’s coming to the dance?” Clarke asked her friend, surprised. To put it gently, the words _school spirit_ didn’t exactly fit into the older boy’s vocabulary.

“Just to watch over us.” Octavia rolled her eyes. “Mom’s working late at the shop tonight, so she asked him to come.” She ducked into her room, and Clarke stared at the dress for another second before getting started on her makeup - ugh. Why, why, why?

It took ten minutes and one eye-stab with the mascara wand before she finally got it right. Octavia was waiting outside when she stepped out - she was wearing a dark purple number that, as usual, was guaranteed to have boys fawning over her all night long.

“Ready to go knock Brian’s socks off?” She asked with a mischevious grin, pulling Clarke down the stairs with her.

“Yeah, yeah.” Clarke said, but she had a feeling her wry grin had turned into a dopey smile. Fine, she was excited.

“You ready to go, Bell?” Octavia asked when they rounded the corner to where her brother was sitting on the couch.

“I was ready to go -” He glanced up and broke off suddenly, staring at Clarke. Something flickered through his expression, before he coughed and glanced down again. “I was ready to go an hour ago.” He finished, getting up from the couch and grabbing a set of keys.

 

Clarke didn’t know why, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d looked at her.

 

 

When they got to the dance, it was crowded and loud, the lights dim and the heat rising up like a wave to meet them. Clarke almost turned and ran out the way she came in, but then Brian was there, offering her his arm with a shy smile, and her window of opportunity was gone.

They danced a few times, and then Octavia ran over to gush about her newest fling, and Brian excused himself to go grab some punch for them all.

Clarke settled her chin into her palm, and listened to Octavia while tapping her feet under the chair and smiling to herself.

“And he was just so sweet, you know? Not like some of the other....” Octavia drifted off suddenly, a funny expression coming over her face as she looked at something over Clarke’s shoulder.

“What is it?” Clarke turned, just as Octavia made a noise in her throat, like maybe she shouldn’t - and the words died in her throat. Brian was standing just a few feet away, locked in an embrace with another girl.

 

Clarke just sat there for a few seconds, and when the two broke apart Brian caught her eye. He murmered something to the girl beside him, and then came over to her.

“I’m really sorry, Clarke.” He said apologetically. “She was my ex, and things just -”

“-Happened.” Clarke finished with a forced smile. “Yeah, no, I get it. Of course.”

“Thanks so much, Clarke.” Brian grinned at her. “I knew you’d understand.”

Clarke turned back to the table as he walked away, to find Octavia looking at her sympathetically.

“That utter -”

“It’s fine.” Clarke said automatically.

“It’s not fine!” Octavia retorted, outraged. “He had no right -”

“It’s alright, V.” Clarke said, standing up quickly. “I’m just - going to get some fresh air.”

“You sure?” Octavia’s voice was softer.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Clarke said with a quick smile, pushing her way through the crowd to get to the exit. Sweat was beading on her skin, and there were so many _people_ \- and then she was out the doors and the cool air was so nice she let out a relieved gasp. She settled herself onto the steps, and wiped away a few tears with the back of her hand. It was so _stupid_ , crying about him. She didn’t even know him that well - and this was their first date. It’s not like she was attached, or anything.

“Hey, Clarke.”

Her head jerked up, and she saw Bellamy sitting down on the steps beside her.

“Oh, hey.” She muttered, ducking her head so he wouldn’t see her red face and the still-damp tears on her cheeks.

“You rushed out of there pretty fast.” Bellamy commented, but his voice was soft. He wasn’t prying, just letting her know he was there.

“Yeah, um, my date - got back together with an ex, apparently.” She sniffled, still not looking at him.

“Bastard.” Bellamy said mildly.

“It’s not like I really liked him, or anything.” Clarke said defensively. “He just - I just thought that maybe, for once, someone actually liked me, y’know? Maybe I was good enough for somebody.”

“Hey.” There was something in his voice that made her look up at him, then. “You’re good enough, alright?” His voice was insistent, and suddenly that _thing_ Clarke had felt, when he’d been looking at her earlier, was back, and for some unknown reason her heart was pounding and her hands were shaking, just a little.

“You look like a princess in that dress.” Bellamy said, a small smile quirking up the edges of his lips.

“Yeah?” Clarke said, but she wasn’t smiling - and slowly, the smile faded from his lips too, and he was staring at her with an intensity that should’ve unnerved her but didn’t. And suddenly she realized how close they were, his knees almost brushing hers, fingers inches apart. So when he leaned in to kiss her, it felt so natural. The kiss was soft and sweet, and on recall Clarke could never quite remember how long it lasted. But when they pulled apart, they were both staring at each other with discovery, and amazement, and the feeling that this was the beginning of something dynamic.

 

 

After that, everything else was history. They were the most talked-about couple at school for the next few weeks, but as time went on they were just known as _that couple_ , the one that was always together and always would be. When Bellamy graduated, Clarke was there, cheering like her lungs would burst, and two years later he was doing the same for her. When Clarke’s dad died in a car accident, Bellamy was there, holding her when she cried and comforting her when she was beyond comfort, and when a year later his mom passed away from cancer, she kept him from falling apart. They fought every once and a while, like all couples do, but they could never spend more than a day or two apart before they were back with tearful apologies and promises to never be that stupid again.

When Clarke looked back on those years, all of her best memories were with Bellamy. They had their first time together when she was 18 and he was 20, because he didn’t want to rush her into anything she wasn’t ready for. And when she told him she was going to put off med school for a few years, until her mom was ready to cope with life on her own, and she was ready to handle the same, he stroked her hair and told her that whatever she needed, he was there for. They had their biggest fight when he dropped out of his second year of college without telling her, and she found out from Octavia a few days later.

“You can do so much with your life!” She had shouted, her voice raw from unshed tears.

“I don’t want to!” He’d shouted back. “Clarke, you’re destined for greatness, and I love that about you - but _I don’t want that_.”

“Then why didn’t you just _tell_ me? I thought we were supposed to be in this together!”

“We _are,_ Clarke. But I knew you’d react like this, I didn’t want to disappoint you -”

And then both of them were crying and they crossed space between them until she was buried in his arms.

“I just want what’s best for you.” She’d said, her voice muffled.

“I know.” He croaked out, kissing the top of her head. “I know. I love you.”

“I love you too. So much.”

 

The memory wasn’t a good one, but it ended alright. So when Clarke got accepted into Stanford and she rushed to tell Bellamy, she didn’t notice the expression in his eyes - or maybe she did. Of course she did.

She just didn’t want to see it.

  
  
  


 

“I think we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

 

She could see Bellamy’s lips moving, but the words coming out were a jumble. _This is not happening. This can’t be happening._

 

“What?” She finally managed to croak out.

“You - You’re going to Stanford.” Bellamy’s voice hitched in his throat. “You have so much ahead of you, and I, god, I _can’t_ be holding you back. I don’t have plans outside this town, okay? This is my home, this will always be my home. I’m going to live in this little town for the rest of my life, and you are going to become a brilliant doctor and go live in New York, or England, or someplace -”

“No, no, I don’t _want_ to go to those places, not if you aren’t there -”

“-You can’t stop me, Clarke -”

“-It’s not your _decision_ -”

“I’m sorry.”

And there was a finality in his eyes as he said it, as he backed out of the room. Clarke distantly heard the _click_ of the door sliding shut, but she was detached. This couldn’t be happening. This _wasn’t_ happening. Throughout everything, he’d been there. He’d always been there. He was her other half, the person she missed when he wasn’t with her, the one she called up in the middle of the night when she had nightmares. The one who took her to see _The Princess Bride_ whenever it was on at the town’s little movie shop, even though he thought it was corny. The one who kept her together, kept her _her._

 

She didn’t move from the spot where she was standing until her mom came home, late from a long shift at work.

“Hey honey, I didn’t expect to see you over here - weren’t you supposed to be at Bellamy’s?” And then she looked up and saw Clarke’s face, and she set her purse down on the floor. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Bellamy -” She couldn’t finish. Couldn’t even think it.

“Clarke, you’re scaring me. What is it?” She walked over and gripped her daughter’s hands.

“Bellamy and I broke up.”

“Oh, _sweetheart.”_ And then she was in her mom’s arms and she was crying, leaning into her and sobbing like her heart would break.

“I don’t - I don’t know how to breathe.” She gasped, and she couldn’t tell if she was actually forming words or not. “I don’t know how to live without him, mom.” And she crumbled into her mother’s embrace while she tried not to die.

 

 


	2. how you surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's at Stanford. She doesn't know much else about herself right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hence continues the tradition of 'Amy thinks this'll take her a long time to write and then ends up having it finished in a matter of hours'. I'm hoping you all think that's a good thing. Also, I'm crossing my fingers that the past tense/present tense switch will make sense - my idea was that she's been narrating up until this point, and now it's caught up to her life as she's living it.

When Clarke walked onto the Stanford campus, her first thought was _I wish Bellamy was here_. She felt a hitch in her breath and shoved the feeling to the back of her mind. _Stupid, stupid_. She needed to get over him, she needed to move on with her life. She was going to _Stanford,_ for god’s sake. But now it just didn’t seem as exciting. Nothing did.

 

She’d left the day after, just up and packed her things and hopped the soonest bus to California. Her mom had been worried, but she knew what it would be like. Living in a small town was _hell_ when it came to gossip. Clarke had a few friends in the Stanford area, but ended up grabbing a room in a motel and getting a waitressing job for the few months over the summer. She couldn’t be around anyone that she knew right now, couldn’t stand to put on her ‘together’ face all the time. Most days she came home from work and just curled up and cried.

 

Being in a big city was nice, though. No one cared if you’d broken up with your boyfriend of six years, or if you were struggling to get up every morning, or if you just didn’t have the energy to smile and chat about all the newest gossip. You could get lost in a place like this, and although Clarke surmised that in another time it might’ve been lonely, right now it was just a relief.

 

At this point, lonely was an old friend.

  
  
  


 

So now here she is, staring at the doors to the University and praying that she can get through the day. She kept her crappy little motel room, with its chipping white paint and dusty floorboards and bars on the windows, although she really doesn’t know why, and right now she’s dying to get back to it. _This is what Bellamy wanted you to do_ , she reminds herself. It’s been three months, it shouldn’t hurt this much to think his name. _This is what_ you _want to do._

 

So she takes a breath, thinking, _fuck it_ , and walks through the doors.

  
  


The day would’ve been amazing, before, but now it’s tolerable - she even smiles at one point, and her mouth feels like it’s breaking. How long has it been since she’s done that?

 

She takes the bus back to the motel (can she call it her motel now? it’s the closest thing she has to a home) and fiddles with the half-broken door lock before falling into bed and closing her eyes. (she can’t do this, she can’t, she can’t)

(she has to, this is all she has left)

(she misses him like he’s a piece of herself, like she’s only half a person without him)

  
  


 

Her phone rings, and she almost leaves it, but it might be her mom and she hasn’t talked to her in weeks and she’ll be worried, so she picks it up at the last second.

“Hello?” (her voice sounds rusty, like she hasn’t spoken in weeks, which isn’t true. days, maybe.)

“Clarke?”

There’s a beat, where Clarke takes in a breath because this was not the voice she was expecting.

“V?”

“Oh my god, _Clarke.”_ And she can hear Octavia trying not to cry on the other side of the phone and suddenly she’s crying too because she doesn’t have the strength to pretend she isn’t.

“Hey, V. I miss you.” _Present tense_ , she thinks, because even though her best friend’s voice is in her ear she’s a million miles away and she _misses_ her, misses that stupid town, and her mother, and of course she misses him.

“Jesus, Clarke. Would it have killed you to call?”

“I.”

(make your lips form words, make yourself find something to say)

“I couldn’t.”

 

....

 

“How’s Stanford?”

“It’s...good. It’ll be good for me, I think.” (he was right about that, right about her needing something more)

 

.....

 

“He misses you too, you know.”

There’s a catch in her throat.

“Not enough.”

 

“I guess not.”

 

And when she hangs up she’s feeling nostalgic and it’s a hundred times worse than the numbness, like something’s tearing at her from the inside.

 

God, she’s a wreck.

 

She doesn’t even bother pulling a blanket onto the couch, just falls asleep with crusty tears tightening the skin in tracks along her face.

  
  
  


 

She doesn’t go home for Thanksgiving or Christmas, (if she does she knows she won’t be able to leave again) so Octavia and a few friends make a road trip down to California, and she is able to beg a dorm room from a classmate who’s going home for the holidays, so she doesn’t have to tell them that she’s living in that shitty motel.

 

“How is he?”

(she doesn’t really want to know the answer, doesn’t know why she asked)

“He’s dealing with it in the best way he can.” Octavia answers. They’re curled up on the couch with their feet twisted together, and all Clarke can think is that the last person she was this close to was him.

(she doesn’t say good, doesn’t think she can lie well enough to make it sound believable)

“How are you? Really.”

 

“I’m coping.”

 

“No, you aren’t. Clarke, I know you. This isn’t you coping, this is you running.”

 

“Maybe that’s all I can do right now.”

 

“Clarke...”

 

And then she’s crying and Octavia’s holding her and she’s a terrible friend because all she’s thinking is how much she wishes it was him.

 

“I miss him so much, V.”

  
  
  


(she’s not good with grief)

 

 


	3. I'll look at you in love with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's home now. It's so similar. It's so different, without him.

She’s standing at the bus stop in her hometown, and the sun is out and heat is beating down on her skin and she’s missed this place so much but she’s dreading being back. All she has is her pale blue suitcase that’s worn around the edges, and a backpack. It’s all she brought with her to Stanford, and she didn’t go shopping for anything but necessary living items.

 

She waits a few minutes after the bus pulls out, but her mom isn’t there yet so she sighs and starts dragging her suitcase down the streets. She knows her mom wanted to be there to pick her up, but she must’ve gotten caught up at work, and it’s only a few blocks anyways.

 

It takes her too long to get home, because she’s stopped by four people in the short time it takes her to walk. She answers their questions with a forced smile - yes, Stanford is amazing, yes, she’s glad exams are over, yes, she missed home, yes, it is a shame what happened with _that boy._ (no one wants to say his name. she’s glad.)

 

 

 

She opens the door and finally her smile is real as her mom turns away from the stove and Clarke runs over to hug her and they’re both laughing and crying.

“I thought your bus didn’t come until 5:30, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. Was it awful?”

“Well, I only got stopped by four people, so maybe I’ll have a whole _hour_ of silence before they all come knocking.” Clarke grins.

“Are you meeting up with Octavia?”

“Yep.” Clarke hops onto the counter and dips her finger in the sauce of whatever it is her mom’s making. “We’re going out for coffee later.”

“So tell me all about it. How were classes? Did you make any friends?”

“Classes were amazing - I learned so much there, mom. It’s like, you walk into that place and you’re _barraged_ with knowledge. The Profs are great, too - except there’s this one asshole, Professor Dispit - who of course is known as Professor Dipshit, I mean, god, if you’re going to have a last name like that then you’d better be a frigging _saint_ \- who likes to call up the most confused-looking person in the class and make them answer problem questions _in front of the class_ , it’s like middle school all over again...”

 

They talk for over an hour, until Clarke kisses her mom on the cheek and tells her she needs to go upstairs and unpack before she meets Octavia.

 

She closes the door, and when she’s sure her mom isn’t waiting outside, she hugs her pillow close to her chest and buries her face in it so her sobs are muffled. (she’s better now, she really is, but it still sometimes feels like she’s suffocating)

 

Then she wipes away the tears, applies a fresh coat of mascara and grabs a sweater before heading out the door.

  
  


When she pushes through the door of the only restaurant-meets-coffee-shop in the town and hears the familiar jingle of bells, she can’t help but run forward and all but tackle her best friend.

“Missed you, V.” She laughs, and Octavia blows hair out of her face in mock annoyance, but can’t hold the expression for long.

“So how’s the brilliant doctor-in-training?” She asks with a grin.

“Very happy to be home.” Clarke responds, pulling up a chair. (it’s not a total lie. she missed Octavia, and her mom. but she misses him as well)

“So dish. Cute guys? Plans for the summer? I need to know _everything.”_

“No cute guys in my life at the moment, and I’m actually working here for the summer.” She gestures around the restaurant. “I convinced Jaha that my skills had been honed a lot from working in California last summer.”

Octavia smirks. “I bet.”

“Oh, and I’m _finally_ going to get a car - everything in Stanford is overpriced, so I’m going to go check out the legendary vehicle scraphouse tomorrow and see if there’s anything I can fix up over the summer.”

Something flickers through Octavia’s expression - a wary look.

“What?”

“Nothing.” The smile is back. “Oh, and Wells said to tell you that he’ll be coming home from LA for a week in August, so you’re supposed to prepare for wild debauchery.”

“Wild debauchery? In this town? Besides, he joined a _fraternity._ He’s got to have had enough partying for the next ten years of his life, at least.”

 

 

It’s nearly midnight before they finish talking, but Jaha, who owns the restaurant, just drops a key in Octavia’s hand with a wink and tells them to lock up when they’re finished.

“You okay walking home?” Clarke asks automatically, and then they grin at each other because oh _no,_ they could be caught by _muggers_ or something.

“Big city girl needs a reality check.” Octavia nudges Clarke with her elbow, and spins off with a wave and a shouted goodbye before ducking down a side street towards her house.

 

(she doesn’t cry herself to sleep. she’s stronger than that now)

  
  
  


 

She lets herself sleep in the next morning, so when she gets up the sun is high in the sky. Her mom’s left a note on the table saying she’s at work and won’t be home until late, so Clarke grabs her shoes and heads down to the local automobile shop. She’s humming to herself as she darts through the doors.

“Hey, Mrs. S!” She calls out to the woman sitting behind the desk. Mrs. S looks up, a smile gracing her features.

“Clarke, darling!” She still has a strong accent, even though she moved from the Phillipines nearly twenty years ago, but Clarke’s known her long enough to immediately tell what she’s saying.

“Nice to see you,” Clarke says after the obligatory hug. “Any chance you’ve got a car rusting around suited for a pre-med looking for a summer project?”

Mrs. S has that same wary look that Octavia had when she’d brought up the car last night, but it’s gone almost before she sees it. “Oh, I’m sure there’s something out in the yard that’s still able to get fixed up. You just go out there and take a look around.”

“Thanks, Mrs. S.” Clarke says, hurrying out the back. And there they are - the rows of rusty cars and spare car parts, sitting in orderly rows along the grass. Clarke rolls her eyes - the whole town has been trying to convince Mrs. S to pave it over for years to make it look like an actual automobile shop, but she insists that she doesn’t want to ruin the grass. She inspects a few of the cars, opening the hoods to check out the inside - she doesn’t really care if the outside is vomit-green, as long as it runs.

 

“Hey - do you need any help over....”

Clarke turns, and before she can realize what’s happening she’s face-to-face with Bellamy.

(she can’t breathe. she should’ve been ready for this, but she isn’t she isn’t ready)

It’s a full ten seconds before either of them can speak.

“What are you -”

“I’m looking for a car.” Clarke swallows. “For Stanford, I mean. It’s not like I’ll need one here for the summer.”

 

“Right.” He looks flustered. (goddamn him. he broke up with her. _he_ broke up with _her)_

“So, um, is there anything you’d recommend? It doesn’t have to be perfect, I can fix it up over the summer.” (he taught her how, two summers ago. they’d spent half the time tuning up the car, and the other half making out underneath it)

He runs a hand through his hair, and Clarke resists the urge to straighten out the piece that falls into his face. (she would’ve, before. she would’ve laughed and brushed it back and kissed him until they were both breathless)

“Yeah, there’s a few. This one’s probably your best bet, though.” He gestures to a faded orange car a few feet away from them, opening the hood so she can check out the wiring. “All she needs is a few tune-ups, and she’ll run like a kitten.”

“I’ll go talk to Mrs. S about paperwork.” Clarke says, not looking at him. (she’s not thinking about how much she hates the space between them. she’s not)

“Okay.”

He doesn’t move away, and when she lets herself glance up at him he’s looking at her like he used to, like she’s the sun and the moon and the stars, except this time there’s a world of hurt surrounding it. And she can’t do this again.

 

So she steps back, pinching her nails into her palms. “Thanks, Bellamy.”

“Is there anything else you need?”

 

~~_I miss you so much_ ~~

~~_last week I walked out of my last exam and I was so excited I had your number dialled before I could remember_ ~~

~~_I’ve tried so hard to stop myself from loving you_ ~~

~~_I don’t know how_ ~~

~~_did you stop loving me?_ ~~

 

“No, thanks.”

 

She tells Mrs. S she’ll make a decision and come back tomorrow, because she doesn’t know how long she’ll be able to speak through the lump in her throat.

  
  


 

When Clarke gets home she digs through her room until she finds her favorite book and brings it out to the back porch, where she reads until her eyes drift shut.

 

(it has a sad ending and this way she can tell herself the tears are about the book)

 

(she’s gotten better at lying to herself)

 

 


	4. we made this about you and me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's dealing. Really.

She wakes up at 6 am, from the sun rising over the horizon, and tries to focus on the cool breeze on her skin and the chirping of birds. (her other option is to think about the image of his face she’d woken up to, before she blinked the sleep away from her eyes)

 

She doesn’t want to think about him. Thought that finally, maybe, she was starting to cope. That maybe the days of waking up and piecing herself together were over.

 

God, she was so _stupid._

 

She wipes the wetness from her eyes (she’s so _sick_ of crying, she should’ve used up all of her tears by now) and pushes herself to her feet. She still has to go back to Mrs. S’s, but first she has a shift at the restaurant. And maybe he won’t even be there when she goes.

(she doesn’t want to see him)

(she wants to see him so much)

 

So she goes up to her room and takes a quick shower, throws on a clean pair of clothes (she has so many clothes here, it’s ridiculous) and darts down the stairs, absentmindedly throwing her hair up into a messy bun. She leaves a note for her mom and heads down to restaurant to start her shift.

 

It’s just like she remembered it - except that she spends most of the day talking instead of serving, since everyone is dying to hear about Stanford. But the age-old capuccino maker is still there, and the ‘new’ menus that they’d gotten a few years back, and it’s almost like she never left.

 

She hates it. She doesn’t want to get stuck in this town, doesn’t want to end up here for the rest of her life. The only thing tying her here had been Bellamy, but now it’s just another reason for her to leave. (she doesn’t know how she’s going to make it through a whole summer)

 

 

As she walks over to Mrs. S’s, after her shift is over and twilight is dusting the sky, she loses herself in the scent of the gravel and the silence.

There are so many memories of him in this town.

 

That clearing behind the ice cream shop is where he’d made a picnic for their one year anniversary.

The cluster of trees was where he’d pressed her up against the bark and she’d wrapped her legs around him and kissed him until she was dizzy and he’d told her he loved her for the first time.

The library where he would show up unannounced with strawberries when she was studying for exams, the lamppost that had _BB + CG_ written in a heart like they were 12 years old, the cemetery where they’d held each other while they experienced the greatest grief they’d ever known.

 

The memories are like an acrid taste on her tongue. They press up her like fog against window panes, seeping through the cracks in her composure.

 

She can’t walk, so she runs.

  
  


 

She’s out of breath when she gets to Mrs. S’s, so she takes a second to catch a breath, to prepare herself. She walks in and fills out all the paperwork, and then Mrs. S hands her the keys with a smile.

“Go out and get your new car, honey.” She beams, but Clarke hesitates. The older woman's smile becomes softer. “You’re going to have to face him sometime, sweet. Now’s as good a time as ever.”

“Right. Yeah,” Clarke says (she’s getting dizzy, she’s not breathing right). “Okay.”

So when she walks out and sees him, tinkering under the hood of a van, she walks right past him and hooks the car up to the resident tow truck - Mrs. S doesn’t care who uses it as long as it comes back, and she doesn’t want to ask him for help. It isn’t until she starts the engine that he looks up, his expression closing up as soon as he sees her.

“You need any help?”

“No, I’m fine.”

He looks at her for a long second, then goes back to working on the van.

  
  


 

Working on the car is frustrating, but right now Clarke is okay with frustrated. Frustrated isn’t breaking down or being lonely or thinking about him. She can deal with frustrated.

She makes it through the next few days without anything remarkable happening, aside from meeting Octavia’s new boyfriend, Lincoln, an out-of-town hottie who for some godforsaken reason decided to spend his summer here.

She’s washing dishes at the restaurant when the bell jingles and she calls out ‘coming!’ before wiping her hands off on a dishcloth and heading out front. It takes a moment for her brain to stutter back to life.

Bellamy is standing there, fingers entwined with those of Raven Reyes.

She realizes that the silence has gone on for too long, so she plasters a smile to her face and tells them to grab a seat, she’ll be out in a minute to take their orders. And then she slips into the hardware closet and stifles her sobs with her apron.

 

She almost asks Roma, the chef, to switch with her, but she needs to learn how to do this. So she makes sure her eyes aren’t red before she comes out with a bright smile and notepad at the ready, subtly avoiding eye contact with either of them. It’s not hard - they’re both staring at their laps furiously.

 

She calls Octavia while she’s waiting for the food to get ready.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Raven?” She asks in lieu of saying hello. Her voice sounds raw, and Octavia doesn’t answer right away.

“I didn’t think it was something you’d want to know.”

“Maybe I didn’t _want_ to know, but in this town I was going to find out eventually, and it would’ve been nice hearing it from my best friend instead of learning about it when they show up at the restaurant for a date!”

“Oh, _Clarke.”_ And Octavia’s voice sounds so sympathetic that Clarke forgives her instantly, of course she does. It’s not like she’s really mad at her, anyways.

“I’m fine. Really.”

“Do you want me to stop by?”

“Yes.” It’s the first admission of weakness she’s given in a long time, but she can’t help it. She needs her best friend right now.

“I’ll be over there in five.” Octavia says resolutely, and Clarke slips her phone into her pocket.

 

True to her word, Octavia shows up exactly five minutes later. Clarke has already brought out the food and now is stuck with the awkward job of checking in and making sure they have everything they need, so when Octavia arrives it’s a breath of much-needed fresh air. She’s dragged back into the kitchen and all but tackled, and she doesn’t know whether she should laugh or cry.

“Oh, Clarkey. It’ll be okay.”

  
(she doesn’t know if it ever will be)


	5. woven on the couch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on without him (even if she doesn't want it to).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended to write a short chapter before I leave for a week, and ended up writing a 3k+ word conclusion in one night. I hope you all appreciate how much I love you. (Also, remember, reviews are my life)

When she gets home she packs her bags and is fully ready to head back to Stanford, because even though the car isn’t finished yet it’ll at least get her there. And then her mom comes in and takes one look at the room and gives her the most disappointed look she’s ever seen.

“Clarke, I know this is hard for you.” She sinks onto the bed and reaches an arm around Clarke’s shoulders. “But you can’t run from all of your problems. There comes a point in time where you need to push back, and say ‘to hell with it, I’m going to do this. No matter how difficult it is’.”

“It’s not that easy.” Clarke speaks through a lump in her throat.

“And it’s not going to be. Not for a long while. But one day you’ll wake up and realize that you haven’t thought about him in days, or weeks, and that it doesn’t hurt to think about him anymore.”

“I still love him, mom.”

“I know, sweetie. I know.”

  
  


 

So she does it. She takes the summer one day, one hour, one moment at a time. She even talks to him a few times, but the wounds are still too fresh for more than polite conversation.

She goes back to Stanford in the fall and gets a real dorm room and throws herself into the studies. Life goes on, even though sometimes she wishes it wouldn’t, and the years pass like nothing. She can point out the big, momentous times in her life, and the bits in between seem all but blurred. The boy she dates for a little under a year, Finn Collins, until they drift apart when she goes home for the summer. The pregnancy scare right after the breakup that ends up being a false alarm. The day she decides to stop coming home for the summers, instead working in Stanford at a better waitressing job, where she doesn’t get her ass pinched at half the tables. The time when Octavia calls her in tears to tell her that Bellamy enlisted in the military, and she tries to be supportive while holding back her own.

She only makes a few close friends, but for some reason she’s known as the ‘mother’ figure of their year - she can’t tell how many times she’s helped a student who’s having a breakdown from stress, or given study tips, or hosted someone on her couch when they come back from a party too drunk or high to stand.

And soon after her 28th birthday, she graduates from the assimilated undergrad/med school program at the top of her class.

 

 

After that she still has five years of residency, but she’s going to be doing actual work in a hospital instead of taking classes day in and day out, and she’s so excited. She’s happy where she is, so she chooses a hospital in Santa Clara County and shares an apartment with Harper, one of her close friends and fellow med students from Stanford, and it’s fun even though Harper’s boyfriend, Jasper, and his friend Monty are over nearly 24/7. She thinks about home less and less, until one day when she looks down at her ringing phone and sees Bellamy’s 23-year-old face show up on the caller ID.

 

“Hi.” She picks it up, and she can’t help her voice sounding a little startled. She vaguely remembers the first time they talked after the breakup, when she went home for the summer, but there’s only an echo of the feelings that used to be there.

“I need your help.” He says, and his voice is hoarse and desperate. “Will has a fever, and he’s spasming, and every time I try to move him he sounds like he’s in pain, and you were the only person I could think of to call -”

“Whoa, hold up, Bellamy. One thing at a time. Who’s Will?”

“He’s - my son.” At one time, Clarke would’ve felt the breath rush out of her. (she doesn’t feel that now. she doesn’t)

“Okay. How old is he?”

“Two.”

“And what are his symptoms?”

“He has a fever of 103, I took his temperature an hour ago, and then again about twenty minutes ago.”

“Did you try giving him acetaminophen?”

“Yeah, didn’t do anything. And then a few minutes ago he started spasming, like he’s having a siezure.”

Clarke blows out a breath. “Okay. I’m going to help, but you need to remember, I’m not a doctor yet -”

“I don’t care.” Bellamy’s response is short and automatic. “I need you.”

Clarke grabs her coat.

  
  


Bellamy’s apartment building is only a few minutes away from where she’d been when he called, and when he opens the door he looks so different from when she’d last seen him - older, obviously, and more serious, and very, very worried.

“Clarke, thank god.” He gives her a brief hug and then opens the door. Will, a tiny boy with a mop of curly blond hair, is lying on the floor, still convulsing. “I didn’t want to move him.” Bellamy says, but he sounds uncertain. “I called the health line and they said it was fine, to just leave him and call back if it lasted more than 15 minutes, but -”

“Get me some blankets and cold, wet cloths.” Clarke interrupts firmly. If she isn’t careful, she’ll be treating him for shock as well. She kneels down beside the toddler, watching him carefully. When Bellamy returns just moments later, she gently slides the blankets under his head, trying as hard as possible not to move him, and rests the cool cloths on his forehead and neck. “Did you see the exact time when the siezure started?” She asks, glancing up at Bellamy.

“5:46.” He responds tightly, coming to sit next to her. “Is he going to be alright?”

“It’s probably nothing to worry about.” Clarke replies soothingly. “Febrile seizures are usually harmless. So as long as it stops in the next -” she glances up at the clock - “three minutes, it should be fine.”

The time seems to stretch on and on. Clarke walks over to the kitchen to grab water for them both when Bellamy shouts “Clarke, he’s turning blue!” She rushes back into the living room without even bothering to turn off the tap, coming to kneel beside Will. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” She murmurs as she carefully turns the child onto his side. A dribble of vomit comes out of his mouth, and his breathing stutters back to life.

They sit in expectant silence until she glances up at the clock and it reads 6:02.

“Grab your coat,” She says finally. “We’re going to the hospital.”

 

She doesn’t trust Bellamy to drive, so she sticks him in the back of her car with his son, who’s wrapped in blankets. She dials her cell as she’s stopped at a red light, muttering pick up, pick up under her breath.

“Hello?”

“Harper. Are you at the hospital?”

“Yeah, I’m here for another hour. Why?”

“I don’t know the number, so I need you to page the ER and let them know that we have a 2-year-old with a fever of 103 and prolongued siezures coming in in about 5 minutes, okay?.”

“I’m on it.” The line clicks dead and Clarke lets out a sigh. Harper might be a chatterbox 99% of the time, but when it comes down to it she’s the most no-nonsense person Clarke knows. She’ll be a great doctor.

They pull into the ER and Clarke slips into the first spot marked ‘staff parking’. (She doesn’t really care that it doesn’t technically apply.) They rush in and the paramedics are waiting for them.

“Is there anything I can do?” She asks Dr. Hanning, who shakes her head.

“Thanks, but we’ve got it covered. Take care of the father, he’s looking pretty shaken up.”

Clarke turns to see Bellamy and he’s pale and his hands are trembling.

“Hey.” She says softly. “I know these doctors - they’re the best, okay? They’re going to find out what’s wrong with him.”

“Yeah.” He says, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know. I just...I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him.”

Just then Dr. Graham walks over to them. “Mr. Blake, I just have a few questions for you, if you want to sit down.” Bellamy sinks into one of the chairs, and Clarke settles in beside him. “Has William ever experience any siezures before?”

“No.”

“Is there any history of siezures in the family?”

“Not on my side, no. I don’t know about his mother.”

“Is there any way of contacting her?”

“No.” Bellamy takes a gasping breath. “No, she...left. I haven’t heard from her since Will was born.”

“Alright, that’s all the answers we need. We’ve performed a physical exam and nothing seems wrong, so we’re going to do an EEG.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s to check the electrical activity in his brain.” Clarke says quietly - she’s noticed he’s calmer when she’s speaking. “If nothing shows up on that, they’ll do some blood tests and maybe take an MRI.”

Bellamy swallows. “Okay.” He replies. “Can I be there with him?”

Dr. Graham smiles. “That’s what I was coming to get you for. As it happens, we’re able to get him in right away - he’s a lucky boy, Mr. Blake.”

They follow him into one of the hospital rooms, where Will is lying on a bed. His eyes are closed and his breathing has finally evened out. Bellamy squeezes one of his hands gently, not letting go as the nurses apply electrodes to the toddler’s scalp.

“It looks like something out of a science fiction movie.” He mutters to Clarke, and she smiles.

“Don’t worry, this one doesn’t brainwash.” She teases back.

 

She’s not sure how long the test takes, even though she should be paying attention to the procedure. She’s too focused on Bellamy and the terrified look in his eyes. After what seems like ages the nurses remove the electrodes and Dr. Graham walks over to where her and Bellamy are standing.

“Do you know what’s wrong with him?” Bellamy asks.

“The results from the EEG were...abnormal.” The doctor replies.

“And what does that mean?” Bellamy’s voice is getting more anxious.

“It means that we’re not sure yet what caused the siezure. We’re going to have to ask you and William to stay in the hospital for the next few days for some tests - the nurses are getting him set up in the room right now.”

“Okay.” Bellamy looks lost, so Clarke squeezes his hand.

“Give me the key to your apartment, I can go pack you a bag while you stay here with Will, alright?”

“Alright.” He says, fumbling through his pockets and handing her a key ring. She gives his hand a last reassuring squeeze and all but runs out to her car.

She stops at his apartment, and then hers, because she’s not sure how stable he is right now and she has to be at the hospital early the next morning anyways so she might as well stay overnight. When she gets back he’s sitting in the chair next to Will’s bed, completely still.

“Hey.” She says quietly, handing him his bag and key.

“Hey.” He replies, then seems to notice her own bag. “What -”

“I have to be here tomorrow morning anyways.” She says, and he looks too tired to argue. “So, you never told me you were living in Santa Clara County.” She shoots him a questioning look.

“I meant to.” Bellamy replies. “I just...it’d been too long since we talked, and calling you out of the blue was just...daunting.”

“Fair enough.” She says, but it still stings a little.

They sit in silence for a long time, and Clarke is almost asleep in her chair when he speaks.

“I never thought about having a kid, you know? I was used to being in the military, moving around a lot...I never expected to settle down. It was completely out of the blue, too. It was a one-night stand, and Brianna, Will’s mother, called me when she found out. We weren’t together, but I’d assumed that after Will was born she’d stick around, that we’d both take care of him even if it wasn’t at the same time. But as soon as she was recovered from the labor she dropped Will off at my place, told me she wasn’t suited to be a mother, and left. I was...lost. I didn’t know how to be a father. But Will’s the best thing that ever happened to me. If something happened to him...”

“It won’t.” Clarke reassures him. “It won’t, he’s going to be alright. I promise.”

They fall silent once again, and this time there’s nothing to stop Clarke from drifting off to sleep.

She thinks she hears him whisper _I missed you_. But she’s probably just dreaming.

  
  


She wakes up the next morning to her alarm, and quickly shuts it off. Bellamy’s eyes are still shut, and she extricates herself from his arm that had somehow ended up around her shoulders in the night. She scribbles a note, _off to work, I’ll check in, try not to worry_ , and goes to change into her scrubs.

 

The day’s long, but she keeps her promise and checks in on Bellamy on each of her breaks, and whenever she’s walking past Will’s room. They run some more tests on Will, and each time both him and Bellamy look more exhausted. They stay in the hospital for two more nights, and no matter how hard Bellamy tries to convince her to go home and rest, Clarke stubbornly ( _tenaciously_ , she’s always thought of it as) insists on staying. Finally, on the third day she walks into the hospital and Bellamy’s packing up his things.

“You got the results?” She asks quickly, and Bellamy looks up with a smile.

“Hey, I was just looking for you. Yeah, Dr. Graham just came in and talked to me.”

“And?” Clarke asks, and then immediately backsteps. “I mean, I don’t want to overstep my boundaries. It’s your choice who to tell, and I don’t want to -”

“Clarke.” Bellamy sounds exhasperated. “You’ve been here for as long as I have. And besides, you’d be the first person I told anyways.”

“So?”

“Will has epilepsy.” He breathes out. Clarke gives a little gasp.

“Bellamy...”

“It’s - well, it’s not ideal. But at least it’s not something worse - Dr. Graham wrote out a prescription, but other than that...he’s going to be okay.”

“That’s fantastic.”

“Yeah.” Bellamy smiles, and it’s the first smile she’s seen from him in years. “Yeah, I’m glad. I’m taking Will home now.”

“Do you need a ride?” Clarke asks, even though she’s still in her scrubs and only midway through her shift.

“No, it’s okay, I already called a cab.” He says, and Clarke turns to go. “Wait!” He calls, and she turns back hesitantly. “Thank you, Clarke. I mean it. I don’t know if I’d have been able to make it through this alone.”

“You're welcome.” Clarke shoots him a smile. “If you ever need anything, just give me a call.”

 

 

He calls her that night, and she picks up the phone breathless and worried.

“It’s okay, Will’s fine.” He says right off the bat, and she’s reminded of how he always knew what she was thinking. “I was actually - god, this is going to sound shitty and stupid, but do you want to go out tomorrow evening?”

Clarke’s heart skips a beat. She doesn’t know if she can do this, or if he’s just being friendly and she’s taking it as something else. “Go out, as in...”

“A date.” He replies. “I know...I know that it’s a lot, and I understand completely if you don’t want to have anything to do with me. Or maybe you have a boyfriend, it never came up -”

“Bellamy.” Clarke cuts him off, laughing, and there’s a lifting in her chest. “I’d love to.”

“Really?” He sounds so astonished that she laughs again. “Seven sound good?”

“Seven sounds great.” She responds happily. “Here, I’ll give you my address...”

 

She spent seven years trying to forget him, and maybe that was a good thing. Maybe they both needed space, to figure out their lives.

 

Apparently they weren’t on such different paths after all.

  
  
  


 

 

**Six years later**

 

 

“Bellamy, are you ready to go?”

“Almost.” He gives Clarke a peck on the cheek as he sweeps by her. “I just need to figure out this goddamn tie. Maybe I should just leave it, go to the opera house in a t-shirt and jeans.”

“Come here.” Clarke rolls her eyes, but can’t stop a smile from tugging at the edge of her lips. She expertly twists the tie into the right shape, then smiles up at Bellamy. “See? Easy.”

“The real reason I married you.” Bellamy says with a smirk, then leans in to kiss her.

“Ew - Mom, Dad, can you do that somewhere else? Rory’s getting cooties watching you.” Clarke lets the kiss last a moment longer before she turns, laughing, to where Will’s standing in the doorway with his younger sister.

“Do you like the babysitter?” Clarke asks. Will shrugs his shoulders.

“She’s okay. I think she’s texting her boyfriend already, though.” He sounds so serious, and Clarke feels Bellamy’s chest rise as he chuckles.

“Kids these days.” He says drily, then turns to Clarke. “Alright, I’m ready to go.”

“About time.” She says lightly. “We’re on a _schedule,_ honey.”

“I know, I know, bigwig doctor has to go save lives early tomorrow morning.” Bellamy responds, teasing. They both kiss Will and Rory goodnight and waving goodbye to the babysitter. As soon as the door closes behind them Bellamy pulls her into the light of a streetlamp and lowers her into a dip as he kisses her.

“Happy Anniversary.” He says with a smile, and Clarke kisses him again, until they’re out of breath and laughing and she rests her head on his warm chest.

  
Tonight might mark the end of another year together, but with him every day feels like a new beginning.


End file.
